From the back of the book: 'Marigold was very young, very inexperienced and very trusting-so perhaps it was hardly surprising that as soon as she met the well-known author Lindley Marne, handsome, worldly, and-or so he claimed-unhappily married, she should fall wildly in love with him. But of course it was the usual story, as Marigold found out to her shame and horror the middle of a shabby little episode with Lindley from which she luckily managed to escape before any real harm was done. Her rescuer was Paul Irving, as different in every way from Lindley as he could be, and the feeling he soon engendered in Marigold was real love which ended in marriage. The marriage should have been blissfully happy-but how could it be when Marigold learned that Lindley, the one man in the world who could and would wreck it in a word, was Paul's brother-in-law?' Marigold found out she was just one of many little week-end girls that Lindley used to get his jollies, she bolted. Straight into Paul arms, he helped her leave the hotel. But the whole story with Paul rested on lies, lies told by Marigold that she had to keep lying to cover up something that never really happened. It was really a sad type of story, but I couldn't put the book down. Marigold had no parents or real friends to turn to for help. Paul was a pillar of strength, but a straight arrow kind of guy.
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